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“One…two…three…”
I count in a measured way, though the anticipation is killing me. I bounce on the balls of my bare feet.
What could they possibly have planned?
“Fifteen!”
I pull my hands away.
Before me are the dark maze of gardens, and no sign of my boys.
I walk down the stairs and thread through the tall hedges, deeper and deeper. I can hear the crooning of a violin, calling to me.Closer…closer…
My heart is pounding in my chest.
I find myself standing before an arched trellis, blooming with flowers.
The music is just beyond. And the trickling of water…
I step through. I’ve made it to the center of the garden where a wide fountain acts as a center. Nate and Mason stand before the fountain having somewhat straightened themselves out after hours of dancing, combed their hair, redone their suits and ties.
Above are strung rows and rows of fairy lights. Ethereal. Beautiful. And there’s a violinist tucked in the corner,playing her heart out as a romantic melody sings from her strings.
“What is going on?”
Nate and Mason glance at each other before Nate swallows and begins to speak. “We love you, Laney. You know that.”
I smile. “Of course, I know.”
Nate continues, “And I know I speak for both of us when we say we want to spend our entire lives loving you.”
My forehead furrows.
Their whole lives…
“We’re unconventional. It goes without saying,” Mason picks up where Nate left off. “And I know we’ve all accepted that we will pave our own path together, the three of us. The norm has never been meant for us.”
I look between them. Though I found my way, I’m still lost as to why we are here. “What’s going on?”
Mason’s head dips, and he laughs almost to himself. “I’m nervous.”
Nate pats his shoulders. “You got this.”
Mason rolls his shoulders back. “We can’t have a wedding like this one.”
I nod.
“Because we’re not two people who can sign our commitment to each other on paper. We’re three. And people aren’t ready to understand that. But…”
It takes me a second to realize Mason is lowering himself to the ground. On one knee.
He reaches into his back pocket, an anxious smile on his face. “Fuck what people think.”
Nate mirrors him, getting down on one knee.
“I’m…I…” I don’t know what to say or if there’s anything for metosay.
This doesn’t feel real.
